


More Adventurous

by SuburbanSun



Series: puzzle pieces [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dawning Attraction, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps May was right. Perhaps this decision had to be made in an instant.</p><p>(In which Jemma Simmons finally figures out how she feels. And acts on it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Adventurous

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to The Last Piece and These Inconvenient Fireworks, and the last in this series. The notes on those apply-- this takes place sometime after S2E10, but kind of ignores its more yikes-worthy storylines.

Jemma Simmons can’t sleep.

Instead, she’s puttering about in the lab, checking and rechecking measurements that if she really admits it to herself, aren’t terribly important to the success of her projects. It’s just something to do, something to occupy her mind at 2 a.m. while she is decidedly not in her bunk, sleeping.

She’s scribbling in the margins of her notes in a sleepy, more disheveled version of her usual tidy penmanship when she hears footsteps. Looking up in surprise, she sees it’s May.

“You’re up late.”

Jemma tucks her hair behind her ear and sets her pencil down. “Just haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Any particular reason why?” May steps further into the lab. She leans back against Jemma’s lab bench and crosses her arms.

“Oh, just…” Jemma begins, avoiding May’s eyes. “Working some things out. In the lab. Chemistry-related things.” It isn’t technically a lie, though May’s quirk of an eyebrow makes Jemma feel like it is. She takes a deep breath and continues, unsure if she’s digging herself in an even bigger hole. “There’s this… hypothesis I have. And I’ve been gathering evidence. And the evidence is-- strong. Solid. But I’m just not sure I have enough to prove the hypothesis one way or the other.”

May is silent, and for a moment, Jemma thinks she hasn’t been listening. Then the older woman tilts her head to the side just slightly, looking thoughtful. “When you’re out in the field, there are moments when you have to make decisions in an instant. There’s no time for the scientific method.”

Jemma bristles at that. “Well, things are different in the lab. You have to be cautious and methodical, or else you can’t rely on your results.”

“You’ve been in the field now, Simmons. In a highly dangerous situation. You’ve had to make those tough calls.”

Jemma shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She picks her pencil back up and begins to chew on the end of it, brows knitting together as she watches May’s face.

“Maybe some problems call for both skills. Careful gathering of evidence, and split-second choices.” May uncrosses her arms, peering over at Jemma’s notebook. “Or maybe you just need to get some sleep. Your math is wrong, there,” she says, pointing at a simple subtraction error. Jemma blushes, quickly erasing and correcting the problem. When she looks back up, May is standing at the lab’s entrance.

“Goodnight, Simmons. And good luck with your problem.”

Jemma nods, a small smile on her face. Maybe a good night’s sleep is exactly what she needs.

 

 

 

On the way back to her bunk, May’s advice runs through her mind on a loop. Her own little science experiment has led her to the fairly definitive conclusion that she’s more than a little attracted to Fitz. She can no longer deny it. But where does that leave her? Where does that leave the two of them?

Before she reaches her own bunk, she notices light coming from beneath the door to his. _It’s so late-- what’s he doing up?_ Without thinking too much about it, she approaches his door, knocking lightly. When there’s no response, she taps the code into his keypad, hoping the one she knows by heart is still correct. She’s rewarded with a soft trilling sound that indicates that the door is now unlocked, and she eases it open.

Fitz is fast asleep in bed, mouth open and head tilted back against the pillow. He’s got a science journal spread facedown on his chest, and one hand has fallen off the bed, nearly grazing the floor. He looks peaceful and adorable and the thought comes to Jemma unbidden-- _God, I’m in love with him._

Her eyes widen and she lets out a soft _oh_ of surprise even as she feels everything seem to click into place-- her growing attraction to Fitz, the fierce love she’s always had for him, the way their relationship has begun to mend. Suddenly she knows that it’s true, and she can’t fight the slow smile on her face or the sense of relief she feels.

Perhaps May was right. Perhaps this decision had to be made in an instant.

Fitz stirs in bed, somehow shifting positions without the magazine sliding off his chest. He blinks his eyes open, squinting up at her. “Jemma?”

She can’t say anything, so she just nods, standing there with a silly smile on her face in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on?” He sits up in bed, tossing the science journal onto the floor. He pulls his pillow into his lap and tries unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“Hi, Fitz.” She knows that she’s acting weird, and it’s confirmed when he furrows his brow at her.

“Hi? Is-- is something wrong?”

She shakes her head quickly, taking a tentative step toward him. She can feel the adrenaline in her veins, and she can’t tell if she’s nervous or excited or happy or all of the above.

“Are you alright?” he asks, at the same time as she just blurts it out:

“I’m in love with you.”

Silence hangs in the air. Jemma crosses one arm in front of her body, gripping her other wrist and taking a deep breath as she waits for him to respond. For his part, he’s blinking slowly up at her like he’s trying to translate the words she’s just said. She’s starting to wonder if he’s going to say anything at all, when he finally does.

“What are you… are you… um. Sleep-- sleepwalking right now?”

“What? No. No, I’m awake.” More awake than she’s ever been, she thinks. As charged and tense as the energy between them feels, she can’t fight the little smile that seems to be a new permanent fixture on her face. It feels so good to have finally made a choice.

Fitz swallows, then clears his throat. “But you said…”

“That I’m in love with you. Yes.”

He begins to shake his head slowly, then more quickly, rubbing at one eye with his thumb. “No. You don’t have to say that, Jemma. You don’t--”

“I do have to say it. It’s the truth.” She wants to step closer to him, but she feels rooted in place.

“You’re not… you can’t. I’m not… I’m not the same as…”

Her heart breaks a little at that, and she bites her lip. “I don’t care about that, Fitz. You’re who I… you’re the person who I love. Am in love with.”

He just stares up at her, eyes wide and a little hopeful-- at least, she thinks that’s hope she sees in them. His lips are parted just a bit and he’s looking at her like she’s his sought-after solution to a complex equation. But he’s not saying anything, not moving, and she’s starting to feel nervous. What if he no longer feels the same way?

“But, if you don’t--” Her eyes flit to the ground, then back up to his face. “This is how I feel.”

“Are you--”

“Yes, I’m sure. How do you feel?”

He stares up at her, mouth moving wordlessly for a moment, before he shoves his pillow to the side and rises up quickly, taking one big step to stand right in front of her. She doesn’t wait for him to reach for her, and instead grasps him by the shoulders and pulls him in, kissing him on her tiptoes with every bit of emotion she can muster.

His mouth is warm against hers, and his hands settle tentatively on her waist. She slides her arms up and around his neck, crossing them at the wrists and holding him close. She’s not sure if it’s his mouth or hers that parts first, but the kiss is suddenly deeper and she feels a shiver travel up her spine. He tastes like tea, and she likes that. It’s warm and familiar and home.

She makes a contented noise, and it must give him permission, because he wraps his arms tighter around her, one hand on her lower back and one trailing up her spine. She nudges him gently backward, and he gets the idea, shuffling back toward the bed. Just as he reaches it, though, he pulls away from the kiss. Her face follows his, eyes still shut, before opening them to meet his troubled gaze.

“Wait, Jemma,” he begins, hesitant but still not loosening his hold on her. “Why now? What changed?”

She starts to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as she thinks about her answer. “Nothing changed, exactly. This has just been the first time I’ve had _five minutes_ to really think about what I want, instead of… survival.” _That, and the rampant sex dreams I keep having,_ she thinks, but decides that telling him about those can wait.

The look on his face is so _Fitz_ that she can’t wait to kiss him again, so she cups the back of his head and pulls him in. He seems to have no problem with this, opening his mouth to hers immediately, but then he pulls back again, expression uncertain.

“Just to clarify…”

She laughs gently. “Yes, Fitz. What I want is you.”

“Okay. Okay, good.”

This time he’s the one who pulls her back in, keeping hold of her as he sits back on the bed. She follows, not breaking contact as she sits beside him. He runs his hand up to thread through her hair, and his gentle touch on the back of her head feels so lovely that she lets out a pleased little giggle. Then he slides his hand forward just a bit, skimming her jaw and stroking her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger, and she giggles again into the kiss. She can’t help it.

“What’s so funny?” he mumbles against her mouth, before pulling away just enough to meet her eyes. She laughs fully now, at all of it. His expression is somehow both chagrinned and content at once.

“Nothing!” But she smiles big, and another giggle slips out. He looks a little offended now-- but it isn’t stopping the thumb of his right hand from tracing lazy circles on her hip. “I swear, it’s not funny at all.” Then she thinks about it, and… it is kind of funny, isn’t it? “It’s just that, did you ever think we’d be here, doing this? When we first met, and you hated me so much, would you have ever thought we’d be here?”

His thumb stills. “Now hang on. I’ve never hated you.”

“Oh, come off it, Fitz.” She swats gently at his shoulder. “You hated me when we first met at the Academy.”

“I did not! That is so-- All I wanted to do was to-- to impress you. I was… intimidated by you. I was so afraid you wouldn’t think I was… worthy of being around you, or something.” He’s quieter by this last part, eyes on her lap.

“Me, intimidating?” He pins her with a look that says he might still be a little intimidated by her, though she can’t fathom why.

“You were… are… the smartest person I’ve ever met. Smarter than me, even when I… even before. And you’re so beautiful.” He pulls his hands back from her, folding them in his lap and looking down. “I thought I had to come up with something really good to impress you if I wanted you to notice me.”

Jemma’s heart clenches in her chest. “Oh, Fitz… I thought you were brilliant right from the start.” His eyes flick up to hers, and she hopes so much that he believes her. “I thought we would be brilliant together. And, well…” She places one hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. His gaze moves to her hand, then back to her face. “I was right.”

They just look at each other in silence for a few moments, until Fitz lets out a chuckle. “Well, aren’t we a pair,” he says, scooting back on the bed and laying on his side with his back to the wall, propped up on the elbow of his good arm. “To think people used to say we were psychically linked.”

With a little sigh, Jemma spreads out on her side facing him, mimicking his position. It hurts to think that they aren’t psychically linked anymore. That maybe they were never as in sync as they once thought. But she has to believe that they still understand each other, and that they’re still on the same page.

“Fitz, what am I thinking?”

He looks baffled. “I don’t know.”

She rolls her eyes in exasperation, then scoots her body even closer and puts her free hand on his chest, face close to his. “What am I thinking right now?”

“Oh. Oh! Yes. I think I understand.”

She grins, hand held over his heart, and leans into kiss him. Just as her lips are about to graze his, he pulls back again, covering her hand with his.

“Hang on, you mean you want to…?” He gives her a meaningful look. She can’t help but roll her eyes again, but this time she’s laughing.

“Yes, Fitz.”

“Okay, good.” He kisses her again, hard, and she knows that they’re on the same page, after all.

Jemma doesn’t know how long they kiss for, bodies pressed close together. After awhile, though, their kisses slow. His roaming hands come to rest on her hip, fingers moving idly. She’s keeping her eyes closed more and more, and when he lets out an enormous yawn in the middle of a heated kiss, she knows that it’s time to call it for the night.

“Fitz.”

“Hmmm?” His eyes are still closed, and she’s not convinced he’s completely awake.

“Let’s get some sleep.”

Fitz lets out a noise of protest, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“You’re essentially already asleep now.”

“No, ‘m up.”

“I’ll still be here in the morning.” She tries to put as much assurance as she can behind the words, realizing that he might need to hear them more than she can know. He opens one eye to look at her.

“Yeah?”

Her grin wrinkles her nose. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Eyes closed once more, he pulls her close enough that she can settle her head against his chest, his arms wrapped around her. Finally satisfied with the answers she’s found, Jemma is asleep in seconds.

 

 

 

When she wakes up, her face is smushed against his chest, and her cheek feels cool where she can tell she drooled on him. She would be embarrassed, if she weren’t so _happy_.

She assesses the situation. He seems to be still asleep-- his chest is rising and falling evenly, and he’s snoring just a tad. She has the idle thought that his snores are cute, then rolls her eyes at herself. She slowly, gently lifts her head off his chest and props herself up on one elbow, watching his face. He looks so peaceful.

Watching him with a soft smile, she’s content to let him sleep… when all of a sudden she feels a telltale tingle in her nose.

Her sneeze is quiet, but powerful, and he wakes with a start.

“‘m up, ‘m up!” He squints as he lifts his head off the pillow, disoriented. He opens one eye more fully to peek at her. “Jemma?”

She giggles. “Yeah.”

“So it wasn’t a dream,” he mutters, letting his head fall back to the pillow with a smile on his face.

“No, it wasn’t.” She places the hand that isn’t propping her up on his stomach, splaying her fingers out. She feels the muscles beneath it twitch.

“G’morning, then.”

“Morning.”

They just lay there for a few moments, Fitz with his eyes closed, Jemma watching him, the fingers of one hand tracing patterns on his stomach. She takes the time to watch the way a smile plays at his lips-- she thinks she’s seen him smile more in the past eight hours than she has in the past eight weeks-- and the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. She’s suddenly reminded of some of the dreams she’s had lately. In those dreams, they often wake up just like this… though maybe with less clothes involved. A blush colors her cheeks, and she’s glad his eyes aren’t open to see it.

Her fingers make distracted circles on his stomach, starting small and spiraling out larger as they go. His lips part, and she can hear his breathing get infinitesimally quicker as she continues. It takes a moment before she realizes that his gaze is on her own, blue eyes darker than she’s seen them. She swallows hard, not breaking eye contact. Then she can’t help but smirk a little.

Just as her circles are beginning to skim the waistband of his pajama pants, he quickly brings a hand up and grasps hers, stilling it. Her breath catches, and then he turns her palm over to thread his fingers through hers, and it tugs at her heart. Squeezing his hand, she leans down to press her lips to his. 

He returns the kiss somehow both eagerly and tentatively, like he knows what he wants but he’s not sure he deserves it. She’s determined to make him see that he more than deserves it, as she slides her tongue along his own. She pulls her hand away from his and trails it down his chest slowly, enjoying the way he sucks in a breath through his nose as they kiss.

Beneath the covers, she slides one calf over his own, running her toes down his ankle and foot. He responds by reaching over to grip her waist firmly, his whole manner less cautious than before.

Jemma can’t help but think that it’s really, really _hot._

She pushes herself up with one hand, not breaking the kiss, and slides over to straddle him. She balances on her knees and leans down over him rather than pressing their bodies together, hoping she’s not moving too fast for him, but then suddenly his palm slips under her shirt at her lower back, firmly but gently pulling her down against him. Her breathing speeds up when she feels him hard against her thigh, and with one hand threading into his hair, she slides herself down so that their bodies are properly aligned.

“Ahh-- fuck, Jem,” he mutters, breaking their kiss, as she rolls her hips against his. He’s looking up at her with half-lidded eyes, lips parted, and she’s fairly certain her face is graced with a matching expression. She tilts forward for a better angle and rolls her hips down again, and this time she’s unable to suppress a low moan.  All this, and they’re both still fully clothed.

As if reading her mind, he slides his fingertips just under the hem of her shirt, stroking the skin of her stomach in a way that does absolutely nothing to stop the arousal thrumming in her veins. As turned on as he looks, he also looks a little nervous, and for a moment she thinks he’s not going to do anything. “Take off my shirt, Fitz,” she tells him, and with a quick nod, he complies.

Once her shirt is over her head and tossed onto the floor, his eyes immediately leave hers in favor of her breasts. She’s thankful she only buys cute bras-- this one’s lavender with dark purple polka dots, though she doubts Fitz will be able to pick it out of a lineup later. He seems much more enthralled by what’s underneath. His hands splay palms-down along her ribs, sliding up and down, then trail over her stomach, the tips of them just nudging the underwire of her bra. Just as she’s wondering if she’s going to have to command him to take the next step and remove the garment, he slides one hand around her back to work the clasp.

He gets it unclasped in one try, and she makes a mental note to cite this moment the next time he claims he’s not recovering quickly enough.

This time his hands are braver, and they immediately cover her breasts, testing their weight, and squeezing gently. One thumb flicks over her nipple and she presses her hips down tight against his with a quick gasp. He just smirks up at her and does it again.

Jemma bites her lip, raising an eyebrow. Two can play that game. She reaches down and slides both hands under the hem of his t-shirt, pushing it all the way up his torso. He raises his arms immediately, one hand grasping at the opposite shoulder of the shirt to yank it off, and then it’s on the floor. She takes the opportunity to run her light touch up and down his chest, over his shoulders, and down to his stomach, making him jump.

She moves her hand up to flick her thumb over one of his nipples, pinching it gently. He sucks in a breath, then pinches her own nipple where his hand is still cupping her breast, just a little bit harder. Jemma lets out a little noise, and runs her fingernails lightly over his other nipple.

He rolls his eyes even as he’s biting his lip. “It’s first year at the Academy all over again. Always tryin’ to one-up me.”

She giggles, leaning forward to kiss him, pressing her hips down against his again in the process. He slides his hands around to her lower back, then hesitantly moves one further down to her bum, holding her in place against him. “I did no such thing,” she mumbles against his lips, her breathing uneven.

“Yeah, you did, Jem.” His voice is deeper than she’s used to. “Admit it.”

“Never.”

In apparent retaliation, he swiftly moves one hand up to the back of her head, rolling them over so he’s on top of her. She takes a deep, shuddering breath as she realizes just how similar this scenario is to the ones that have been playing in her head nonstop for days.

She’s feeling bold as he kisses her, and trails one hand down his spine to tuck her fingers beneath the waistband of his pajama pants. The other hand joins it, and she manages to push the pants down as far as she can reach. He shifts around, not breaking their kiss, narrowly avoiding thwacking her with his knee as he scrambles to get the pants off entirely. Finally, he’s radiating heat on top of her in only a pair of boxer briefs.

“Jemma…”

She looks up at him, and sees hesitance in his eyes, though she really thinks they’re beyond that at this point, when he’s got one hand on her breast and she can feel him pressing hard against her.

His other hand flutters at her hip, at the waistband of her jeans, as if he’s unsure if she wants him to divest her of said jeans. She smiles at him, reaching between them to undo the button and pull the zipper down before letting him take over. With a deep breath, he pushes the pants all the way down and pulls them off, tossing them haphazardly with the rest of their clothes.

And then there they are. Fitz and Jemma, in their underwear.

Fitz is still crouched by her feet, and she lays back and holds her hands out for him to climb up and kiss her. Instead, he kisses her on each knee, then on each thigh, open-mouthed kisses that speed up both her heart and her breathing.

“Fitz,” she says unevenly as he places another kiss higher on her right thigh. His hands are hooked in the waistband of her panties now ( _dark purple with lavender polka dots_ ), and his mouth is on her left thigh. “Fitz,” she says again.

He doesn’t look up at her; he just waves one hand up at her, as if to say, _yeah, Jemma, I’m busy_. She’s torn, unsure she’s ever wanted so many things at once-- for him to move back up her body to kiss her soundly, for him to get on with it and reach his obvious intended destination, for them to speed past all this foreplay to the part where he’s hot and hard inside of her.

Fitz is nothing if not determined, though, and he carries on. His fingers curl in the sides of her panties and he pulls them down slowly at first, then quicker, only snagging them on one ankle before removing them entirely.

Jemma Simmons has been completed naked in front of her fair share of guys, but this is the only time she’s ever felt nervous about it. His mouth is already back to kissing the inside of her thigh, though, and he looks up at her from his spot, blue eyes burning, and she instantly feels calmed.

Until he pushes her legs further apart and his tongue tentatively licks at her, and she suddenly feels anything _but_ calm.

He runs his tongue up and down once, twice, then focuses on her clit, drawing little circles around it. She arches her back, unconsciously pushing against his mouth, and can’t help the moan that she lets out. It seems to spur him on-- his licks speed up, one hand moving up to grip her hip tightly, holding her in place.

“Oh God, Fitz.” She feels hot all over, and his licks and sucks tease at her. She can’t believe this is _Fitz_ tonguing her clit insistently and making her moan, but at the same time she feels so, so glad that it is. Pleasure begins to coil low in her belly, and she draws her hand up to cover her eyes with the back of her wrist, biting back another moan. Fitz hums in response, and her hips jump, her other hand coming up to play with one nipple.

When he wraps his lips firmly around her clit and sucks hard in between the humming, she’s done for. Her orgasm washes over her and she bucks her hips rhythmically, crying out his name. He doesn’t still his movements until she’s calmed, breathing heavily and letting her hand fall from her eyes.

She tries to catch her breath, reaching for him again. This time, he comes, moving up her body so that they’re face to face. She’s never seen him look so happy-- or so smug.

“I would tell you how incredible that was, but I don’t want to give you a big head,” she says, nevertheless smiling up at him.

“Too late.” He leans down and kisses her neck, and her hand flies to thread in his hair as she chuckles.

“I’ve created a monster,” she whispers, nuzzling her cheek against his head. He just hums in response, which makes her flush. She’s going to have to leave the room anytime Fitz starts humming Beatles songs in the lab from now on, isn’t she?

He’s kissing his way up the column of her throat to suck her earlobe into his mouth, and she shivers, suddenly very aware of the way his erection is pressed against her thigh. One hand still in his hair, she reaches down with the other to tug on his boxer briefs. He takes the hint, lifting his hips off of hers long enough for her to pull them down, then somehow uses his legs and feet to maneuver them the rest of the way off.

Immediately, Jemma reaches a hand down to wrap around his erection, and he loses focus on her neck with a strangled gasp. She runs her thumb over the head, her grip firm, and he bites down on her shoulder to muffle a moan. It’s her turn to feel smug.

She’s just begun to trail her hand up and down his length when his hand circles her wrist, stilling her motions. He pulls his head back to look at her. His lips are parted, eyes wild.

“That’s not...not a good idea, Jem.”

“No?” She tries her best to sound coquettish, sexy, and tightens her grasp on him. “I think it’s a great idea.”

His eyes practically roll back in his head, but his grip on her wrist is firm. “Not if you want to-- you know.”

She does want to you know. Very much. So she relents, letting go of him and moving both hands up to cup either side of his jaw. He breathes out through clenched teeth, attempting to catch his breath. Once he’s calmed a bit, she softly presses her lips to his.

"Do you have any...?" 

He's confused for a moment, then realizes what she's asking, and looks gobsmacked. "No. No. Dammit."

"It's okay, it's okay." She kisses him again quickly, then crawls out of bed, looking around for a moment before grabbing a blanket that's balled up at the foot of the bed to wrap around herself. "Be right back." She crosses to the doorway, then eases it open and pops her head out to check if the coast is clear. 

It is.  _Thank god for small favors_. She tiptoes down the hallway, clutching the blanket tightly around her, 'til she reaches her bunk. After a moment of digging in the top drawer of her bedside table, she dashes back to Fitz's room. He's watching her in still-aroused confusion as she shuts the door softly behind her and tosses him the box. She lets the blanket drop to the floor and rejoins him on the bed, lying beside him.

He's got an odd look on his face as he puts an arm back around her. “Why do you have-- never mind. None of my business.”

Normally she would agree with him, but he’s right-- being on Coulson’s team hasn’t afforded much time for... extracurricular activities. The truth is, she’d had no need for condoms until this very morning.

“It kind of is your business,” she says. “I bought them last week...just after I’d started thinking about… you and me. Like this.” She bites her lip, a little embarrassed.

The relieved, happy grin on his face quells her worry, though. He drops a quick kiss on her cheek before sitting up and thumbing the box open, pulling out a packet and tearing it open, too, before pausing.

“Oh, were you-- are you-- ready?”

She nods emphatically. “Yes, please.”

“Okay. Okay,” he says, as if to himself more than to her. He pulls the condom out of its wrapper and rolls it onto his erection, which she’s able to get a good look at for the first time. It’s lovely, nice-sized and well-formed, and she looks forward to conducting a more up-close examination later on.

For now, though, he’s looking down at her with half-shut eyes and taking ragged breaths, and she’s more than ready to continue what they’ve started.

He crawls up the bed until he hovers over her, staring into her eyes. She pulls his face down to hers so she can kiss him, her other hand fitted against his hipbone. She gently pushes until he’s on his side, then rolls him over so he’s flat on his back, gazing up at her. In her daydreams, she’d always been on top, and she’s not about to waste the opportunity to see if the reality matches up to the fantasy.

She swings one leg over to straddle him, trails a hand down his chest and stomach to grasp his erection and holds it in place as she sinks down onto it, breath held. It feels amazing. Slowly, she inches down until he’s completely inside of her, then stills. She looks down at his face. He’s scrunched his eyes shut and is biting his lip, hard. She feels undeniably sexy, and completely loved, and so right, like every piece has clicked into place and now they’re whole.

She begins to move, slowly lifting and then pushing back down, then again and again. His eyes are open now, trained on hers, and his breathing comes shallow and irregular. Her next downstroke is harder, and he hits something in her that feels particularly amazing, and she lets out a long moan.

“God, Jemma, you’re so perfect,” he mutters, reaching out to slide his hand up her side to her breast. When he pinches a nipple, she feels it everywhere in her body.

She tips forward, leaning down to kiss him, and the change in their position makes her feel even better. She grinds her hips down, shutting her eyes against how good the friction feels. “Fitz,” she whispers, kissing him again messily.

“Feels bloody amazin’,” he mumbles, moving his hand to cup her arse and pull her against him harder as he thrusts up into her.

“Fuck.” Her curse seems to do things to him, as he lets out a loud moan and thrusts up even harder. She picks up the pace, leaning forward so that the friction she’d felt before can drive her to the edge. She’s feeling closer and closer, heat building within her ‘til her whole body is burning.

He’s looking up at her with unfocused eyes now, his upward thrusts becoming erratic. He chokes out her name, pinching her nipple hard with one hand and pulling her down to him with the other so he can latch his mouth onto the place where her shoulder meets her neck. She grinds herself down against him, hard, and he bites down, and that’s what it takes to send her over the edge, hips bucking against his, whispering his name over and over and over again.

She keeps moving over him, albeit struggling to keep a steady pace, as she rides out her orgasm. He thrusts up into her once, twice, then groans unevenly, spasming against her a few times before finally stilling beneath her.

The sound of their heavy breathing fills the room as she lets herself collapse bonelessly against him, dropping a kiss to his neck as she does.

“So…” Fitz begins. “That-- I--”

“Yeah.” She heaves a sigh, still trying to get her breathing under control, and rolls off of him to lay at his side. He quickly stands to deal with the condom, then slides back into bed, draping his arm over her slightly sweaty waist. “We should’ve done that years ago.”

He chuckles once, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah.”

She snuggles close to him, resting a hand on his hip and kissing the closest thing she could reach-- his chin, in this instance. She feels like she could fall asleep right then, warm and blissful, even though it’s already morning, but then he stiffens beside her and she opens her eyes with concern.

“Fitz? What’s wrong?”

He looks down at her, brows knitting together. “I just realized… I don’t think I ever told you I loved you back.”

Jemma gazes at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. Her palm against his jaw, she pulls him down for a soft, slow kiss. “I knew,” she mumbled against his lips. “I know.” They lay there like that then, kissing unhurriedly, happy to just be together truly, for the first time in too long.

A staccato knock at the door jars them from their contented bubble.

“Hey Fitz! Wakey wakey!” It’s Skye’s voice, and Jemma lets her head drop against Fitz’s shoulder, holding her breath. “Coulson needs you in his office in a few minutes. Something about an 084 that needs dismantling.”

Fitz clears his throat, sucking in a breath before answering. “Alright, Skye, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Sounds good. There’s pancakes in the kitchen. You and Jemma better put some clothes on and come get some before Hunter demolishes them all.” They listen to her footsteps retreating down the hall, then meet each other’s gaze. Fitz is looking at her questioningly, like he’s worried she doesn’t want people to know about them, but she knows that the truth is, they probably all already did. Maybe even before Jemma herself.

She just giggles, running a hand through his curls, and he grins with relief. Jemma presses a kiss to his shoulder and squeezes his hip as she climbs out of bed to locate her clothes, and feels more certain than ever that they're going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Rilo Kiley song of the same name.
> 
> Thanks for reading! This series has been new territory for me and it's been fun!
> 
>  
> 
> Want to chat on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


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